The thought of high school and the remembrance of one of the greatest friend quartets that ever existed always brings a smile to my face. The teenage years can be tricky, but I was blessed to have them and to have kept them through thick and thin in all the years that have passed. I am a blessed man at the age of thirty five. The most special of happenings between us came when we met the person that made us that quartet, Mike. Before I give anything away, allow me to take you back to tell the story of that life changing week.
Lunch time was our favorite hour of the day. We got to hang outside and socialize and be the goofy selves that we were. One day I saw a young boy sitting on a bench reading. The “new kid” status is always a tough one to get past. How is he so comfortable all alone? The curiosity killed me. My friends joined in to see what I was glancing at.
“What’s the point of talking to him Nick? He won’t like us!” challenged Leon.
“Yeah, Nick. We have our group and I just don’t think he fits in. He is a brain and a dweeb at that. Besides, all we need is us three. Why add anyone?” added Trace.
I wasn’t macho enough to tell those two, but sometimes the way they disliked change bothered me. I had befriended Leon and accepted his pessimism. He had remained a depressive soul no matter how much happiness found him. He hated change, and it took him forever to welcome Trace.
Trace felt as leery about change as Leon, but in the opposite way. He had always been a snob and was set in his ways. No amount of convincing could sway him. The only reason he came to like Leon was because they both saw anyone who was different from them to pose a threat.
Suddenly I was pulled away from my thoughts as the boy walked over, a notebook and a pen in his hand.
“Hi, I am writing a response essay for Mrs. Clark’s Sociology class, and I was wondering if you could help. I’m Mike.”
“Sure, what do I need to do?” I replied.
“The prompt is ‘Do You Feel Like Life is Half Full, Half Empty, or Otherwise and Why?’ You don’t give me the answer right now. When you go home, think about it and choose one, and write out why you feel that way. I’ll write the essay based on the answers I get. I only have my response so far. I need more, but no one else will help. It’s due by next Monday,” he said.
“That doesn’t sound too hard. I think the guys will need to think about it, but I’m all for it! I’ll give it to you Friday on the bus!”
“Thanks a lot!” Mike replied.
As he walked away, I turned to find Leon and Trace sitting at a nearby picnic table.
“What did he say?” asked Leon.
“He is working on an essay and wants us to help. Pretty cool idea if you ask me.”
Trace and Leon took the paper, read it, and thought for a moment.
“Okay, I am interested. But only this once. I’m curious to know what his answer is. And what he said to you,” Leon said.
“He didn’t say anything. He just told me about the assignment,” I said.
With that, the bell rang and everyone went to their classes. As the end of the day came with haste, I was anxious to get home that night and write my own response. After my homework was finished, I sat on my bed and wrote out words that I had wanted to pass on to Trace and Leon for so long; the honesty was raw and refreshing. I hoped that my friends felt the same as they wrote their responses. I wondered if they had half agreed to help as a way of trying to get Mike out of their hair. I felt more confident as a writer in place of being vocal about how I felt:
Life for me has always felt to be half-full. I am young, and have many dream, but I feel as though what I have is not enough. I am a happy person. I just know there is more to life than what is seen, and I sometimes feel let down by those I am surrounded by. I try to be positive, but feeling boxed in at times leaves me feeling half full. I don’t have faith in materialistic things and I was always raised not to be judgmental. The world and the people in it, even those my age, fall into those patterns and it is unfair because you miss out on so many great chances to meet people you might like in life. I think of the friends I have because I know their hearts need help. A lot of souls need enlightening. I don’t want to exist as just half full. I’d love to be more. I could not choose half empty because I choose to view things in a positive light, though I feel a lot of the time as though something is missing. I come from a wealthy family, but I want something more. I want to try something new for once. What is there other than what I know?
I got up from my bed and tucked the paper away in a folder. I was looking forward to seeing if the guys had done their part. I had told Mike that I would have everyone’s papers by Friday, after all. I never saw Mike until it was time to get on the bus in the evening; he was in a lot of advanced classes and none of us had the same classes.
I wondered if at least Leon would have his paper with him to give to me by then…
The next morning seemed to come only seconds after I shut my eyes. I couldn’t wait to get on the bus. I was hopeful that Leon had found something to write down. The bus driver stared at me for a long second as I found my usual spot and took my seat. Leon’s house appeared after the next few stops. He donned his usual T-shirt, jeans, and old tennis shoes along with his trademark deep abyss of a morning stare.
Leon trudged down the aisle, flashing a huge smile as he spotted me. I scooted over so he could sit down beside me. He went into his routine banter of football statistics and endless griping about homework before pulling out a manilla folder that had been stuffed into his backpack. He was always a mess but somehow never lost a single sheet of paper.
“I wrote something for that guy’s assignment,” said Leon. “Trace tried to talk me out of it last night, but I did it anyway. It’s not much, but his idea makes you think. I hope he can use it. I still don’t think he would like our group, but I’m still curious as to what his answer is.”
I took the manilla folder from him. “Thanks, Leon.” I extended my hand to give him a high five.
Soon enough, the bus came to its final destination. Leon and I went to our lockers, and as I grabbed my books for my first class, I did a long search for Trace. The final class bell rang before I could find him in the hallway. I think he had agreed to help just so he could push Mike away. I’ll see him at lunch. No big deal.
Mrs. Perry’s English class was one of my favorites. We were reading The Giver as a class, and I found the plot both interesting and weird at the same time, however, my most favorite time of class was our last twenty minutes; she gave us all free reading time. We had to read, but it could be a literature of our choice. I had been dying during all of first block to snoop and read Leon’s response to Mike’s assignment.
I pulled out the folder as quietly as I could. The paper, although crumpled, was still readable. I had always loved Leon’s writings; he was so talented. I didn’t so much like sports, but our friendship was strengthened by our taste for the written word. I was taken aback by his words but was glad that he had opened up with such honesty.
My life could be described as being half empty. I have great friends, and I love academics (though my organization needs a little work). I can’t help but notice that sometimes I am missing a huge part of who I could be—my confidence, my mother is not around as much as I’d like. I don’t come from a lot of money. My heart knows that what I have just doesn’t seem to be enough. I don’t have much faith in anyone. I don’t trust that much. I’ve grown up half angry, longing for a full life. I feel stuck sometimes. I don’t want to exist as just half empty. I’d love to be more. I didn’t choose half full, because I haven’t grown up with the most positive attitude; nothing about my life has been happy for any length of time. I’d like to try something new for once. What could there be other than what I know? How could life even be seen as half full or more?
I was submerged, deep into Leon’s words as the bell rang to signal the end of class. I stood up from my desk and put the paper back into its folder while being lost in thought until lunchtime. I found Leon sitting at the same table outside as the day before; it was quite the surprise to see him having a conversation with Mike and enjoying it.
Mike turned to face me. “Hi, Nick!” He waved excitedly.
“Hey, how’s it goin’?” I replied.
“Great! Leon was telling me that he got his response done. I am so glad you decided to help. Mike paused for a minute. “Is there any way I could take both of your parts home today? Mrs. Clark told the class today that anyone who turns theirs in early gets extra credit, and the best one gets their essay published in The Coffee House Digest.” Mike looked around, hopeful. “I am not counting myself to win, but I love extra credit.”
I sat down at the table with Leon and Mike. “Here you go.” I reached for both Leon’s and my folders that held both of our papers.
“Have you guys seen Trace?” Leon asked.
“No, I haven’t seen him,” said Mike. “Have you, Nick”?
“No. It’s not like Trace to miss school. Don’t count on him to have written his part though,” I replied, with a slight chuckle.
Mike stood up. “Well, if I have to, I can be extra creative. Mrs. Clark will never know the difference. I have done that on many an assignment before.” Mike looked pensive. “He still has until Friday at least. Thanks again, you guys.”
With that, Mike walked away with his notebook. I sat down to join Leon at the table.
“Where do you think he could be?” said Leon, shooting a worried glance.
“He never misses. Even when he’s sick, he comes to school.” I thought for a moment. “But I am sure he has a good reason, ” I assured him.
With that, the bell to signal the end of lunch and the beginning of the afternoon block of classes rang. As I headed back to my locker and into my PE class, I couldn’t help but think that something was up with Trace not being at school. I saw him online last night after I finished homework. I saw him commenting on other people’s posts. He talked to Leon last night. He seemed fine. Maybe there was some kind of emergency.
I still did not see Trace the whole rest of the day. When I got home that evening, I ate my dinner, silently wondering why Trace had missed the day. I was full of thought as I went to bed; part of me wondered if he was okay, while the other part just wondered that if he had done his part of Mike’s assignment, what would he say?
The next twenty six hours of Trace’s life seemed to pass in slow motion. Life had never treated him in such an aggressive way, and he didn’t quite know how to feel in his surroundings anymore. As he was lying in bed, he knew the uncomfortable memory of emotion on his father’s trademark polished face would be playing in his head for a long time.
“We’re ever so sorry to tell you this, son. I have been dealt a hard blow with these cuts on my hours at work, and now your mother has lost her job.” Roger looked defeatedly at Trace. “There’s no way we can keep up this house or the lifestyle to which you are accustomed.”
Hearing those words, Trace’s mother collapsed into tears. His father hugged her sympathetically.
“I can’t believe this! I am going to be reduced to living an average life. I don’t know how to be average!” said Trace. Questions began to form in his racing mind, yet he could only manage to find a voice for one of them.
“How could we be in this mess? I really don’t understand!” he argued.
“Trace you’re being unreasonable! Downsizing is the only option we have.” Roger edged toward his son with a slight glare.
“We love you. We wanted to give you things we never had.” Clair reached over to embrace Trace in a tight hug. “I know this is a shock to you,” said his mother, planting a kiss on his cheek.
The silence that followed Tuesday morning and ran into the next night made the house feel empty. Trace had never known what it was like to be a Nick or a Leon. He always had the best of the best. The best clothing from high end stores, a beautiful brick home with an in ground pool, and plenty of money to go around, or so he thought.
The savings that his parents had built up through the years would now be going towards mounting credit card debt. Clair’s severance pay paired with Roger’s would keep the family afloat for awhile, but downsizing was their only option long term.
Trace never knew what it meant to struggle.
Until now.
I feel like my whole life has been a lie.
Thursday morning came as a tidal wave of fresh nerves and uncertainty. Would people be able to read his face? Would he have to spill the details about the reality that had slapped his family in the face?
Trace eased up out of his bed, sauntering down to grab a quick bite to eat before starting his day. As the school bus pulled up outside the door, Trace snatched a banana from the kitchen counter and sprinted up onto the stairs as the door opened, hoping to find a seat alone so that he had time to think. As he sat down in a seat by the window, he took his backpack and put it beside him so that no one would bother him. He gazed thoughtfully at the busy nature of the city and the people who lived in the few subdivisions of the bus route.
The theme of his day could have been described as “somewhat lost in translation” as everything that was said to him or anything that included him just seemed to go right over his head. Nothing could clear the fog that engulfed his thoughts. This was the first day that he had not spoken or hung out with Leon and Nick. He felt so down and out; he didn’t want to goof around and have fun. As far as he knew, he felt deceived by his parents. He felt as though life as he knew it was over.
What are we going to do? What am I going to do?
The school hours passed by in a blur. Trace spotted Mike over in the next crowd of people waiting to get on their bus. He had decided to do his share for Mike’s assignment at the last minute. The new path his world was on allowed him to have a change of heart. He quickly made his way over to Mike, pushing away the crowds of people with mighty force.
“Hey Mike! I wanted to give this to you.” Trace reached for a piece of paper that he had folded and placed into the front of a textbook. “I know we’ve never spoken much. I’ve kind of been a jerk to you, to be honest.” Mike turned to face him with a surprised glance.
“Hey! Where have you been? We’ve all been looking for you,” said Mike.
“I’ve had a lot of life going on. Just didn’t feel like coming to school,” replied Trace.
“Need to talk about it?” Mike’s eyes were fixed on Trace.
“No. I’m okay. Here’s this paper anyway.” Trace handed Mike the paper that he was holding.
“Thanks, Trace. Hope things get better for you,” offered Mike sympathetically.
“Yeah…me too.”
With that, Trace left to get on his bus as Mike stood, still waiting and wondering what could make someone appear so distant and defeated. Trace always carried himself with the slightest sense of arrogance. He always seemed so sure of who he was, a quality that one could envy.
Mike got home that night, ate his dinner, and went straight to his room to work on the essay. He had tucked Trace’s paper in his own textbook. He gently pulled it out and began to read the words from the paper.
He sat staring at the computer screen, not quite sure how to find the right words. They just wouldn’t come. He thought the assignment would be a challenge, and it most certainly was. The responses he received were compelling, though Trace’s elicited elements of surprise and concern.
Mike began to brainstorm and outline what he wanted to say. He was glad that he had taken on the challenge, thankful for the lesson that all of the boys had learned. No matter what, he knew he wanted to make a statement. They were from differing backgrounds, yet all were the same.
We are all different. Yet, we are all the same.
The thought sparked a flow of words that lasted the entire weekend. Monday came and a feeling of pride washed over Mike as he turned in his final draft to Mrs. Clark.
I hope she likes it. What will she think of what I had to say?
Wednesday came as Mike anticipated Mrs. Clark’s feedback on the assignment from the previous week. He walked into sociology with the slightest hint of confidence mixed with uncertainty. Suspense vibrated throughout his body as the bell to signal the start of class rang, and Mrs. Clark rose from her desk.
“I was impressed by the thought that everyone put into last week’s assignment,” she began, passing out the thick stack of papers one by one. “The Coffee House Digest contest asked for extra submissions and loved the entry that was chosen.” She looked around the room with a slight grin, her eyes beaming. “I won’t say who it was though, because I love surprises and I have written the contest results on someone’s paper.”
Mike was hopeful. Mrs. Clark reached his desk and laid the paper face down. He turned over his assignment and there it was: “Fantastic job! I have never had a student write with such powerful emotion before. I had to send Coffee House Digest your beautiful words.”
The rest of class went on as normal as Mike sat through class; his whole body tingled with excitement. When class was over, Mrs. Clark handed out copies of CHD with the winner’s entry on the first page.
Mike felt his heartbeat quicken when he saw his entry. His words faced him from the front page in dark, fine print. He had the sense of overflowing pride. As the lunch bell rang, he found Trace, Leon, and Nick at their usual table outside.
“Guys, we did it!” Mike said happily, clutching the paper.
“You won?” Nick replied.
“Yup. I wanted you guys to read it. It came out great!” The boys all crowded around as Mike approached, holding the paper so they could all read the finished essay.
Overflowing Heart
By: Mike Salser
I’ve learned that life can be viewed in more ways than one. People exist in differing situations and backgrounds; it is astonishing to see how and why people see things the way that they do. In this sociology assignment, I explored the question of: Do you view life as a glass that is half full, half empty, or other, while also asking them to explain their reasons for such a viewpoint. I shared my thoughts today immersed with the responses I received from a few new friends of mine.
The “glass half empty” thought process turned out to be multidimensional. Half empty could mean that life on the surface exudes perfection, but there is a stark reality of how life can throw unforeseen curveballs. Situations may not turn out the way you thought they would. Worries could cloud your lens and perception of your surroundings. Appearances can be deceiving, and reality shows that though we may come from differing backgrounds, we are all the same. The other side of the “glass half empty” sword paints a picture of someone who is missing a huge piece of who they are. People who are angry with life may find themselves relating to this category. You never know what someone may be going through.
The “glass half full” view is one that I found to be the most heart wrenching. Someone who sees life this way is such a sad sight. They are comfortable, yet they wish they had more in life. The half full observation is also the most beautiful because it comes from the biggest hearts. They worry about everyone around them. They want more for everyone else. They are selfless. They are passionate. They are a loving friend to anyone.
A common thought that I saw in virtually all three of the responses taken was this: what more is there?
I have always had an overflowing heart. I don’t choose to see anything as being “half empty” or “half full” because through my circumstances I have always been taken care of by the Lord. Sure, life is hard, but relying on Him makes you see things through a clearer lens. The world is truly “half full” and “half empty.” There are people who are beautiful souls and others who only wish to do harm, either out of a mean or greedy nature. If there is anything I could say to the readers of my words, it would just be to encourage. Life may seem half empty or half full, but don’t allow circumstances or those things that hurt your soul to bring you down. It is one of the essential parts of life to trust in Jesus to give you an overflowing heart in place of being half empty or half full. Peace is a priceless jewel. Those are my thoughts and I hope they are a help to someone out there.
Mike tucked the paper away in a folder and smiled. He was happy to have shared his overflowing heart with so many, and all four of the boys somehow knew that a lifelong friendship would develop, through the willingness of an overflowing heart.
Epilogue
That week changed all of our lives forever. I don’t think any of us expected to become lifelong pals, but I could not ask for a greater set of friends. We have been through just about everything with each other. I don’t know what my days would be like without them now. An overflowing heart needs to be shared; it can impact countless souls if one is ready to lend a helping hand or a listening ear to someone who needs it.